under the crescent moon
by The Neliel Tu
Summary: A collection of drabbles from my Nelliel RP blog. Mostly NnoiNel. Some angsty, some bloody, some mature. I figured I'd share for those who do not follow me. Updated when I feel like it.
1. Chapter 1

Betrayal.

On that day, Nelliel reeked of betrayal when it should have been anger, it should have been _anything _but betrayal. She should have known it was coming—she should have expected him to stoop so low.

And Nnoitra was livid that it had been any other way. She had had no fight left in her that day. Only betrayal and tears and anything but what he wanted from her.

And wasn't that how it had always been? She had never bent to his will, had never done the things he expected of her.

And as he turned to watch her sink to the ground, he wondered why it was betrayal. Had she really trusted him, of all people? Had she really taken for granted that things would always remain the same? He was a man of action…wasn't he? And she—she was Nelliel.

He threw her from the dome of Las Noches that night, disgust turning to introspection as he watched her free-fall into freedom—something he had not thought of. And his introspection was interrupted by Szayel Aporro Granz—who was not even an Espada anymore.

Nnoitra didn't care what that fuck had to say. Didn't care about anything but for the opinion of a woman he would probably never see again. And hopefully when she _did_ come crawling back, things would have changed. He knew he would change. But would she?

Reversion into childhood caused him nothing but disgust—disgust and a pang of pain that was altogether too strange. Even though he covered it up with harsh laughter, he knew it was there—he knew—and that was enough.

He wanted to rage at the heavens that Nelliel was a pathetic whore who couldn't even remain in her original form after his attack—but nothing would come out, especially when in the company of the pink-haired madman who only wanted to spew philosophy. And even later, when finally alone, Nnoitra could do nothing but stare quietly and look within himself.

And even later, after another of his typical killing sprees, he still expected her to appear, to admonish him, to anything but not appear. And she didn't appear. She was as good as dead, at this point. As he trudged through the desert to return to his domain, he could only think that it was weird without Nelliel around, and that it would take some getting used to.

And getting used to the absence of the tercera would be well worth it. After all, now he could kill as much as he wanted without that _bitch_ breathing down his neck all the time.

And yet, he found new ways to pass his time, for every time he went to the desert to kill he was haunted by visions of Nelliel and haunted by memories of her words and he wondered suddenly who would fucking notice him if he killed a thousand weaklings.

Nelliel wouldn't.


	2. when the roles become reversed

_when the roles become reversed_

Run. You'll never escape.

"Even if ya run til yer lungs collapse, I'll still be right behind you, Nelliel."

And she did run. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her. She ran, and she ran, and she ran. She collapsed somewhere off of a desert road, the sun beating down on her head of green hair. It was all bright and washed out and too much for her to bear.

She collapsed in the thorny grass, amazed that it was even growing, and even more amazed she had enough energy to notice.

She propped herself up on shaking elbows, her breath rattling in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to stay at least somewhat upright.

Swish, swish, swish.

She heard his feet gliding across the sand as though in a dream, and her bloodshot eyes saw him through a haze. She shook, and she struggled to rise.

NO!

She didn't hear herself scream, she only felt her feet pounding against the sand, her arms flailing against the air, her breath burning in her throat. The hot tears streamed down her face, involuntary, pain-induced. She felt _dry_,as though all of the water in her body had been sweated out.

And she should not have been able to cry. No, not when she could not even swallow.

"Ha, gotcha,bitch." His voice wafted across the air, through her ears, and she fell to her knees suddenly, face hidden in two blistered palms as she sobbed brokenly.

"Why?" She rasped, peering up at him, her face stained with tears. "Why are you doing this to me?"

And Nnoitra leered down at her as he bent to tip her face further toward his. "Because you're fuckin' fun to torture, Nelliel."

And a part of him wanted to say it was payback for the shit she did in another lifetime, but she didn't believe in that shit.

And if she did, she certainly wasn't admitting to it. "And you're fuckin' irresistible when you're in pain." He smashed his lips against hers, forcefully, hungrily, and she gave in if only to gain moisture from his mouth.

As soon as he broke away, she fell to the sand weakly, her eyes half-lidded with her immense exhaustion, her body frail and broken and cracked and bleeding.

He smirked in satisfaction as he picked her light body up, thin from the torturous games he put her through, and tossed her unceremoniously in the back seat of the car he'd hired to follow them around.

She lay still in the backseat, knowing that as soon as she healed, this game would start up all over again, and she'd be lucky if he killed her.


End file.
